Turn the Tables
by zedrobber
Summary: Amber Sweet doesn't take no for an answer.


Christ, what a spectacularly god-awful night it had been. Barely any customers, pouring with rain, and not enough money in his pocket to make more than a token rattle as he stalked through the damp alleys towards "home." He kicked at some discarded plastic as he went, hands as deep in his pockets as he could get them, thoroughly miserable and pissed off.

"Hey, Graverobber."

He grimaced at the concrete, his step faltering as he attempted to sidestep her without looking at her, knowing far too well that Miss Amber Sweet probably wouldn't let him but too angry to care. He winced as the air left his body, finding himself suddenly pressed against the grimy wall. Finally he lifted his head and wiped rain out of his eyes, glaring at her.

"What the fuck do you want, Amber."

She giggled, an attempt at coquettishness that he didn't buy, and reached up to run one perfectly manicured nail over his neck, following it with her tongue. He shivered despite himself and turned his head away pointedly, glaring at an unfortunate patch of brick as she grazed her teeth over his throat.

"What's the matter with you tonight?" she pouted, grabbing his face and turning it forcefully to hers.

"Not in the fucking mood."

"Oh baby, did my puppy get locked out in the rain?"

He growled, shoved her backwards forcefully, and folded his arms. "Just fuck off, go to rehab again or whatever you do for fun."

"Touchy tonight, Graves," she purred, and he suppressed a shudder, groaning to himself.

"Look....Amber...I'm cold, starving, wet and I am pissed off. I'm not interested."

He pushed himself away from the wall, intending to brush past her and continue on his miserable

way, when he realised she was holding something behind her back, and his hands went automatically to his pockets. Finding nothing amiss, he raised his eyes to her again, and froze as he felt a very familiar, sharp sting of cold steel pressed hard against his throat.

A wave of panic coursed through him as he realised she had his zydrate gun, mixing with a heady rush of arousal that made him groan helplessly. The look in her eyes was purely predatory, a smirk on her lips as she surveyed him.

"On your knees, Graverobber, or I fill you with enough glow to make you bleed blue."

Her voice hadn't changed- still the same low purr as ever as though proposing a quick fuck. But the pressure at his neck and the sight of her turning the tables so fucking easily made him drop to his knees without a second thought, already painfully hard. He wondered if she would do it, if she would really pull the trigger on him; and decided quickly that he was better off not knowing. He swallowed and stared up at her, shivering a little. All he got was a slow smile and a stiletto heel on his thigh warningly, the toe nudging at his crotch and wringing a strangled whine from his throat.

"Oh, you like that....you like it when you haven't got the power..." she looked almost delighted with herself, pressing the gun against his throat even harder, and he could feel his skin give under it with almost sickening ease. He trembled, saw her finger tighten on the trigger, knowing she could probably kill him with everything in that vial. One hand reached out to pull his head back, delicate fingers wound tightly in his hair, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"Beg, Graverobber."

"Fuck you."

"Beg for your life. Beg me to not crush your fucking balls under my heel. Beg for anything, everything. I want to hear the desperation in your voice."

"You're a sick fuck-" he managed before she pulled the trigger just a little, and he felt Z hit his bloodstream- not even a half dose, but enough as a warning. Her gaze never wavered as she pushed her foot harder against his groin, making him wince.

"You might want to rethink who you're calling names when you're the one on your knees."

And oh fuck, she was right. He liked this far too much, his whole body fucking trembling, crying out for release, his mind screaming for him to abandon his dignity and just do as she said before he wound up castrated or worse.

He glared at her half-heartedly, no real conviction in his eyes.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please....don't-" _stop_, his mind supplied. "Don't kill me, please..."

"Not good enough," she spat, and there was a hiss as a little more Zydrate was pushed into his system, his vision blurring a moment as it hit.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned. "Please Amber, fucking hell, please..."

She smirked. "Much better. More." Her toe pushed deeper against his crotch, just too little friction, and he pushed his hips up, another shot of Z making him delirious, a whine escaping his lips as he arched his back desperately. "Please Amber please want you need you so fucking much don't stop please let me-"

"Let you what?" The gun shifted slightly, her hand in his hair tightening and pushing him onto his back, Amber straddling his thighs as she pressed the gun to his neck again.

"Please let me cum, please don't stop want you to make me-" He groaned as she slipped her hand down to his belt, unbuckling it and undoing his pants, shifting to tug them down. He didn't dare to move, hardly breathing as she removed the gun from his neck and pressed it against his inner thigh, all too aware of how many times she'd been in the same position.

Another hit and he didn't give a fuck any more, arching up into the sensation without shame, a litany of curses and pleas spilling from him like a faithful worshipper at confession as she leaned in and licked a hot stripe up his cock before taking it into her mouth, talented tongue swirling around the head and pulling a drawn out whine from Graverobber that he barely heard, too lost in the haze and the pleasure to think of much beyond his own cock and the gun against his skin. His hands scrabbled at the concrete, grazing his palms and not noticing, his boots pushed flat against the ground as he bucked his hips. Amber pulled back a little, flicking her tongue over the tip before taking him back in all the way, his strangled groan her reward. It couldn't last, his oversensitive body and her determination combining to drag him into a powerful orgasm that left him shaking on the ground, half coherent and groaning.

The gun was dropped carelessly beside him after she gave herself a hit, Amber pushing herself to her feet effortlessly and staring down at him with a mixture of contempt and delight.

"You need to know how easy it would be for me to kill you, Graverobber....and to learn why it is you would have let me."

Her heels clicked against the wet pavement as she left, leaving Graverobber to pick up his gun and his dignity alone.


End file.
